Moonspear pls accept my fool

@Hydra ❤

The worst thing about the end of the world, in Liir's opinion, is that it's an utter bitch to deal with alone. He's never been well-suited to solitude anyhow, needy broken thing that he is, but the increased possibility of sudden death makes it cut so much deeper. It makes it harder to avoid thinking about Trism, and how much he misses him.
But those thoughts are dangerous, and Liir knows he must avoid them at all costs. He can't go back, no matter how much he wants to. So when he comes across the border of a pack, he only hesitates a moment. He knows that if he is going to survive, he must have others to support him — to give him the will to go on, however indirectly. So he tips his head back and calls for whoever leads the pack, hoping fortune favors him today

The summoning sound of a howl was not one she expected as she patrolled. Many lingered their mutely as of late, skulking or seeking a route that would ultimately lead to their certain death. Hydra happened to be near when the other called, and she tipped her own head to loose a sonorous sound: I am here, so that he would know she was near and coming. 

She weaved in and out of the trees, a needle without thread; she was careful to look out for things that might be unwelcome but had the fortune to come across none. By the time Hydra arrived, not much time had gone by; he was far better received than several other of his kind for his manners though that much was not very obvious. Hydra was aloof as ever as she bridged the gap between them, savage-grace personified as she drifted nearer with pricked ears. 

Hydra paused a short distance away, sniffing the air for signs of sickness and searching for any instance of malaise upon him. He was not very proportionate, she was able to see—but that was no indicator of him being unwell. He was a gangly thing, but did not look as though he starved as the other boy who had loitered on her doorstep had. The stranger looked like he ought to be bigger, but just was not; his growth had been stunted, it looked like. Perhaps this once was the runt of the litter. 

Well, he had survived that, had he not? And now he was here. 

What is it you are looking for? She inquired then, her gaze landing at last upon his face. He had called, after all; for what, exactly?

The leader arrives, and he tries not to prickle under the judgment of her gaze. He is accustomed to it by now anyway; it is the way of the world — or at least, his world. By now he knows better than to expect that anything good will come easily. He dips his head as the woman halts, smoothing any hint of pride from his posture in favor of an appropriately submissive greeting. A home, He answers easily, taking the question in stride, and for once he feels something like a hint of confidence. Knowing he cannot make this request without offering something in return, he adds: I can fight for you — and hunt as well as any other wolf.

A home. Was he, then? Her eyes assessed him further, searching for any sign of weakness upon his person. He was young. Difficult to say how young, but she imagined him to be at least a year. In raising her brothers and sisters, her estimation was not too far off the mark—he was there, if not only just. She considered him, hearing what he offered, and asked with ample interest: what experience have you in fighting? with a tilt of her head. By his age, she herself had killed—she had become a master warrior, too.

So it was not difficult for her to take him at his word. Her interest in him was true. And while it was good to know he could hunt, he likely knew as well as she that the pickings were slim. Hydra again felt fortunate that they had stored their caches as they had—but she did not revel in the thought of dipping into many prior to winters arrival.

oof sorry this is short & shitty

The woman so far lacks the brash cruelty he is accustomed to, yet makes up for it in bluntness and practicality, and Liir decides that he likes her. Based on the first impression, anyway. I'm the son of a witch, and a bastard to boot, He tells her, tone a touch sardonic. I've been fighting all my life for each breath I take. I fought my way into the pack I spent much of my first year in, and haven't stopped since.

Hydra heard him speak, and if he did not think her cruel moments ago he might now as she expressed: if you had been a bastard born here, you would be dead, and the point was not to frighten or to cause upset, and her tone was so flat and without inflection that it was even clear she meant no disrespect to him by it (it was not his fault his parents had acted as they had), simply to lay out the fact that breeding without her consent would result in no bastardborn here. Better he know now the consequence, young as he was, so if he carried the proclivities of those that begot him unintentionally he would understand what that meant. Hydra did not begrudge bastards their existence, but she could not abide by it beneath her own rule; here, to have a child was a privilege, not a right. 

But she was glad to hear he was a fighter both in spirit. It was unfortunate that his cards had ever been laid out against him for being born a bastard, but that was the way of the world. 

Hydra had heard of only one other wolf before referred to as a witch—but she would get to that. It sounds as though you have been fighting for yourself, Hydra drawled, and she found no issue in that—that had been his circumstance. Her question came shortly after: are you willing to fight for others? For your pack? Hydra paused, her point to be made: this is Moonspear. We do not fight or squabble amongst ourselves; we act as a unified, family unit—and fight for one another. You being a bastard there, she gestured to the general wilds with her muzzle, means nothing to us here, so long as you have teeth and the will to protect your own. Whatever it takes, her eyes were watchful upon him, waiting to hear from him if he understood or not.

A kinder fate than my own, he thinks as the alpha speaks, but he only offers a nod, unsurprised. Her next words, however, catch him off-guard, though it only shows for a moment. It's what he'd hoped for, but he doesn't think he'll ever get used to actually getting what he wants — so he tries not to get his hopes up too soon.
I left my first pack for that opportunity. I want nothing more than what you describe — and I would offer you my loyalty in return. Obedience without question. I will serve you and Moonspear to my last breath if there is a place for me here. He is a simple man, and, in his opinion, does not ask much; a safe place to rest his head, allies at his back. A sense of belonging, in truth, though he doesn't dare voice that directly. Whatever it takes. He adds instead, echoing the woman's words. She would be giving him a chance at the life he seeks, after all; few things can repay such a debt.

Hydra's tail waved behind her as he spoke. Whether or not his words were simply to sway her, Hydra put her trust in them for now; it was all she could do, herself. And time would tell if he was honest or not, but she liked his repetition, of hearing him echo her sentiment. Hydra nodded, welcome to Moonspear, then; what is your name? She inquired, having heard all else that she had desired to from him. She took a step nearer to him so as to exchange scents so that once he entered the territory, there would be no question of his welcome here. I am Hydra Ostrega, Queen of Moonspear. Once you are settled, perhaps you and I might patrol together. Trespassers die, if you are fortunate enough to catch them; there are no exceptions to this, at present, she advised, looking to his features for indication that he understood her. In these trying times, thieves were not tolerated—not that they ever had been. Once he provided her his name, Liir, Hydra moved with him deeper into the territory to guide him around, some. 

pp'ing this conclusion since you said he'd have given her his name <3